Chapter XIV:On Avoiding Many Words

Every idle word that men shall speak,they shall
give account thereof in the day of judgment.

-- St. Matt. xii. 36.

Flee from the throng of the world into the
wilderness as much as thou canst;for the talk of worldly
affairs is a great hindrance, although spoken of with
sincere intention.

Oftentimes I wish that I had held my peace
sooner than have spoken;and that I had not been
in company.

An evil custom, and neglect of our own good,
giveth too much liberty to inconsiderate speech.

-- The Imitation of Christ, i. 10.

SINS of the tongue are such things as blasphemy,
lying, filthy talking, violent and abusive language.
These things are admittedly displeasing to God.
They are sins, and therefore to be repented of by
the man who wishes to enter into life. Outside of
these altogether there lies a region of activity for
the tongue which can neither be described as good
or evil. The common intercourse of daily life, the
talks of friends over the fireside, the passing remarks
to acquaintances in the streets can neither be branded
by the severest rigorist as sinful, nor, except very
rarely, are they elevated into the atmosphere of the
spiritual by any distinctly religious tone. For most
men and women religion has simply nothing to do
with their ordinary conversation except in so far
as its precepts safeguard the talker from
untruthfulness, uncharitableness, and so forth. The hermits
took a different view of common talk. To them all
talking, even talking about religion, was dangerous.
They neither thought nor said that the intercourse
of man with man was sinful. When they taught
their disciples to learn the habit of silence, it was
because silence was safe, not because talking was in
itself wrong. It is clear at once that certain kinds of
common talk are, as the hermits thought, dangerous.
For instance, gossip -- the interested discussion of
other men's characters and affairs -- is dangerous,
because it tends to lead to uncharitable thoughts,
and sometimes to untruthfulness. It is clear also
that the most innocent possible conversation is
dangerous at certain times. For instance, it is a
dangerous thing to talk in church, because any talk
there is likely to lead the mind away from its proper
attitude of devotion. Some people, because gossip
is dangerous, try to avoid all conversation about their
neighbours. Many people, because talking in church
is dangerous, avoid it entirely. The hermits simply
applied the same reasoning to all conversation on
whatever subject, at whatever time. In the first
place they recognised that any talk involved the
possibility of sin. Bitter experience led them to
see that even a conversation on religion generally
left a man some word to repent of. To avoid all
unnecessary talking was therefore to avoid all
unnecessary risk of sinning. Then also they recognised
that conversation widened a man's interests in life and
in the world. A man with wide knowledge of affairs,
and a keen interest in events, is likely to be a good
citizen of an earthly state. Precisely so far as his
mind is absorbed by the interests of his country, his
town, his neighbourhood, or his church, so far is it
abstracted from the interests of that heavenly city
whose builder and maker is God. This strangely
ascetic thought finds frequent expression in the
teaching of the hermits. They deliberately aimed
at being strangers and pilgrims upon earth -- men who
were merely passing through a foreign country. They
wished to concentrate their interests in the land
which they called their home, and therefore to
abstract them from all the affairs of earth. They
knew that every conversation tended to interest
them in this world, to make them in heart less of
strangers here and more of citizens. Therefore they
taught: -- Peregrinatio est tacere -- our being strangers
depends upon our remaining silent.

Once more. The hermits seem to have realized
the curious truth that an emotion is weakened when
expression is given to it. By our physical nature we
are prompted to cry out when we are hurt, because
the pain becomes more bearable if our feelings find
vent in cries. Analogous to this is the fact that
grief is lessened by the telling of it. He suffers
less who openly mourns his loss than he who shuts
his grief up in his own heart and endures in silence.
The same law certainly works out in the sphere of
religious emotion. The man who talks about his
religious feelings runs a great risk of dissipating
them altogether. No man has more need to "guard
the fire within" than the preacher whose duty forces
him to be for ever giving utterance to the most sacred
feelings of his heart. I conceive that this is what
the hermits meant by speaking of the mouth as
the door of the heart. The mouth is not a door
through which any evil enters. The ears are such
doors, or the eyes. The mouth is a door only for
exit. What was it that they feared to let go out?
What was it which someone might steal out of
their hearts, as a thief takes the steed from the
stable when the door is left open? It can have
been nothing else than the force of religious emotion
within them. Words conveyed it to listeners,
perhaps; they certainly took from the store within.
Thus it was that the hermits not only avoided
definite sins of the tongue, not only shrank, as
many others do, from specially dangerous kinds of
talk, but aimed at reducing to the narrow limits of
what was absolutely necessary all talk, even talk
about religion, and set up as an ideal a life of almost
unbroken silence.

II

How the abbot Macarius bid his disciples flee from
idle talking.

Once the abbot Macarius, after he had given
the benediction to the brethren in the church at
Scete, said to them, "Brethren, fly." One of the
elders answered him, "How can we fly further
than this, seeing we are here in the desert?"
Then Macarius placed his finger on his mouth
and said, "Fly from this." So saying, he entered
his cell and shut the door.

II

The mouth is the antechamber of the heart.

A certain brother said to the abbot Sisois, "I
desire to keep my heart safe from defilement."
The old man replied, "It is not possible to guard
our hearts while our tongues, by idle talking,
open the doors that lead to them."

III

How a man, though he live among friends, may yet
be a "stranger and a pilgrim " all his days.

The abbot Sisois said, "Our being strangers and
pilgrims consists in this, that we keep continual
guard over our tongues."

IV

Silence and solitude are better teachers than much
listening to other men and talking to them.

A certain brother asked the abbot Moses to
speak some word to him. The old man replied,
"Go and sit in your cell. Your cell is well able
to instruct you in all things if you remain in it.
As a fish that is taken out of the water soon
dies, so a monk perishes if he remain long
outside his cell."

V

How the value of silence was revealed to Arsenius.

The abbot Arsenius, while he still dwelt in the
emperor's palace, prayed to the Lord, saying,
Lord, show me the path of salvation." There
came a voice to him which said, "Arsenius, fly
from the society of men, and thou shalt be
saved." When he was on his way to embrace
the monastic life he prayed again, saying the
same words. He heard then, also, a voice which
said to him, "Arsenius, fly, be silent, be in
quietness; these are the first steps in learning not to
sin.

VI

The abbot Moses praises silent meditation.

A brother in Scete once came to the abbot
Moses seeking a word of exhortation. The old
man said to him, "Why do you come to me to
be taught. Go, sit in your cell. Your cell will
teach you all things."

VII

How safety is to be found in silence.

The abbot Nilus said, He remains unhurt by
the arrows of the enemy who loves silence, but
he who mixes with the multitude gets many
wounds.

VIII

How an old man rebuked certain brethren for
their many words.

Certain brethren who wished to visit the abbot
Antony embarked in a vessel in order to travel to
his hermitage. In the same vessel there was an
old man who was also going to see St. Antony,
but the brethren did not know him. While they
sat in the vessel these brethren conversed about
an exhortation which they had heard from the
fathers, about the Scriptures, and about the work
of their hands. All the while that they were
talking the old man remained silent. It was not
until they came to the place where they
disembarked that they knew that he was going to see
St. Antony. When they arrived the abbot
Antony said to them, "No doubt you found this
elder a good companion on your way." Then he
said to the old man, "Did you find them good
fellow-travellers?" He said, "They are good
men enough, but their house has got no door to
it. Anyone who wishes can enter into the stable
and steal the steed." This he said, because
whatever came into their hearts straightway found
utterance through their mouths.

IX

Of the extreme difficulty of bridling the tongue.

Once the abbot Sisois said, Truly for thirty
years I have not sought God's help against any
sins so earnestly as against those of the tongue.
Whenever I pray I say this, "Lord Jesus Christ
protect me from my tongue." Yet until now I sin
through it, and fall through it every day.

X

Of the danger of idle talking.

The abbot Hyperichius said, The serpent
whispered to Eve, and she was cast out of Paradise.
He who gossips with his neighbour is like unto
the serpent. He causes the loss of the soul of him
who listens, and his own soul shall not be safe.

XI

How he who is silent, prays.

The abbot Isaiah said, A certain priest was
entertaining some of the brethren. While they
were eating they talked without ceasing to each
other. At last the priest rebuked them, saying,
"Be silent, brethren. Lo, there is one among
you who does not talk, and his silence ascends
like a flame of prayer in the sight of God."